In Its Right Place
by Haywire
Summary: Post ep 'Kidz'. Max releases her anger on a stranger. part 3 (last part) is up
1. Default Chapter

Title: In Its Right Place

Author: Haywire

Category: Max/Logan, post ep Kidz. Lots of Angst.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I think if they were I might destroy them completely.

Dedication: for Sadia, who makes it my aim to entertain. Thanks also to everybody who responded to On Monday', especially Rachel for thoughts of a Logan clone J

*****

I didn't even know his name. He had dark hair, tough, and smelled like black coffee and alcohol. Jason, maybe. Or Justin. Whatever.

I didn't go in to drown my sorrows. Unlike the many other victims of broken relationships hunched over the bar with sweating drinks in their hands and minds as murky as the glasses they drank from, I was beyond self-pity. I stalked in and flaunted my body shamelessly; well aware that all eyes were on me like I was a piece of meat, stripping me naked. I was aware. It was what I had come for.

Black coffee boy had his hands on me early in the night. He had sidled up suggestively and asked the bartender to get me a drink.

"What's your name, beautiful?" he said.

Admittedly, I was pissed. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him toward me with more force than I had intended. He didn't seem the least bit annoyed by the way our bodies bumped violently. He smiled, surprised.

"What do you want from me." I growled. I hadn't meant to.

"Your name, for one." He said, prying my fingers from his jacket.

I didn't care if he was the scum of the earth. I didn't care if he was Satan's advocate or a sector policeman or if he had some grossly disfiguring body anomaly. In fact, I almost hoped he did. I did, anyway.

"Good enough," I said.

I dragged him back to my place; the thought of being confronted by male territory was vaguely sickening. Cindy would come in way later, and hopefully I'd be finished with him by then. I didn't bother turning on the lights as I slammed the door shut because even with my night vision I wanted to see as little as him as possible. So I squeezed my eyes shut, and it made it easier. Easier to push off his jacket and pull his face down to mine. Easier to kiss lips that weren't Logan's.

The kiss was brutal. I forced myself to savagely press myself against him and think of nothing but the punishing sensation. Our lips bruised against one another and my nails were sure to draw blood on the soft skin at the back of his neck. I bit down hard on his lower lip as his hands roamed possessively. I would have felt violated, had this not been my intent. My idea of a mental vomit.

The concept of disappointment being linked to failure had been ingrained in me from the time I was born. It was something I was taught once, then relearned over and over again. Don't be the first one to come up for air. Don't stop even when you're going to collapse. Don't cry out when they strap you down, cut your skin. Don't be the failure. I failed Zack when I wasn't the perfect little soldier and didn't move on as I was supposed to. When he gave me the choice and I said no. I could hear the disappointment in his voice. And as he drove off all I could feel was that I'd been let down. Disappointed, just as much as he was of me. I didn't stay because of defiance. I stayed because there was someone who had never disappointed me before.

I shouldn't have been so quick to hold my tongue.

Suddenly the kiss was broken as he pulled back and my eyes were forced to open. I was forced to look straight into his face and he was no longer the scent of coffee, a pair of lips, a pair of hands. He was a pair of eyes that probed uncomfortably deep into mine.

"Hey, are you okay?" There was concern in his voice and I started. I was gripping his bicep and when I let go I faltered. He moved to steady me and I brushed him away.

"Are you okay?" There was fear now, too. I was shaking like crazy.

Somehow I managed to drag myself to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I knew it wasn't a seizure but reached into the cupboard reflexively, downing the pills anyway. I leaned heavily against the sink, willing the convulsions to stop. They didn't, and I slid to the floor.

I had pushed. I had pushed and pulled at him to make it go away. I had pushed and pushed at my brain with all my strength but Logan wouldn't leave. At Manticore we were taught to forget, to completely expel our minds of anything we wanted to. I remember Lydecker's words with a wry smile, "Anything can be erased. But you have to want to," the only time he ever gave us the power to control something based on our desire to do it. The evident truth lay before me and I tentatively reached out to accept it. I don't want him to leave me.

I leaned against the door and heard only quiet on the other side and I was thankful that he had the decency to leave. The steady thrum of rain on the window pulsed a comforting heartbeat. Once upon a time I came to Seattle because of the rain, because of the permanent gloom to match my angst-ridden mood. And now I can't leave because there is someone I won't stand to have disappoint me.

His place was dark and quiet but his bedroom was empty. Furrowing my eyebrows I followed the hum of machinery into his computer room which was unexpectedly enclosed in shadows. Panic hit, but I found him asleep on the couch in the living room, still fully clothed; a marble statue in the filtered light of the moon through the window. A book lay half-open on his chest and rose and fell gently with each breath he took, the only evidence he was alive. I smiled and gently removed the book from his hand. It was pre-pulse, and bound in leather. It was called "Goddesses of Greek Mythology". A slight flutter of eyelashes caught my eyes and I looked down at the reason I was here and not with the others like me. A fallible man with the belief that he can crush the world's demons with his beautiful mind, who never fails to see beyond the surface layer and aim his sights well above the horizon. A man who keeps me tied to this mess and tied to him. A man who is forced to remain glued to the surface and be a confined mere mortal by day and only at night, in his dreams, become larger than life.

"What do you dream of?" I whisper, less to him and more to the night that clings heavily around us.

I do not notice he is awake until his lips part and his voice reaches me.

"I dream of you, Max. Always you."


	2. Guilt

In Its Right Place part 2 (Logan POV)

"Did I wake you?" she asks, the couch dipping softly under her weight.

"No," I lie, half sitting up to meet her. The sudden shock of my dream turning into reality has awakened me fully, and I still can't believe she's here, in front of me, and not the manipulation of an overworked brain. 

She smiles and I entwine my fingers with hers, giving them a slight tug until she follows me down, her chest against mine.

"Do you dream?" I ask, wary of how to cover up my previous remark.

She shakes her head and wisps of her dark hair brush against my face.

"Even when you sleep?"

"I don't REM sleep." She says, a small sly grin tugging at the edge of her mouth. I watch her mouth, so close to mine, lingering upon each expression. I desperately try to let go of inhibition, but my hand seems capable only of lifting to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Strange how in these few moments Max has rendered both my physical and mental capabilities completely incapacitated. Scratch that, I'm thinking just fine. I'm thinking how beautiful Max looks in the silver halo of moonlight. I'm thinking of the unfathomable black of her eyes, dark beyond the lack of light. I'm thinking what the hell Max is doing here tonight, of all nights, when hours before she left my apartment bristled and stung.

"Why are you here, Max." I whisper, as if to a frightened child.

Her face does not flinch.

"I couldn't help wondering about the work that needed so urgently to get done."

She motions at my book which lays closed now on the coffee table.

I swallow and the moment is gone, the intimacy broken like a taut cord between us that has snapped, and dissipates and dissolves up into the corners of the room.

She is sitting now, physically removed from me, but her eyes pin me down. God I want to tell her the truth, for so many reasons, even just to let her know that the last thing I wanted to do tonight was to turn her away. But the words elude my tongue, pride surfacing its ugly head to get in the way.

"You had a long day, Max. You needed to get some rest."

"That's the most lame-ass excuse I've ever heard, Logan."

Her icy tone cuts deep, but mostly because what she has said is true.

"Look Max, I'm sorry if I was-" 

"An asshole?"

"Brusque," I glare back, "But this Zack mess has put strain on me too and unfortunately I'm not superhuman, so I do have the natural tendency to get exhausted, frankly."

"Fine." She rises and I panic.

"Max, wait." I say, standing and reaching out to grasp her arm, as if my touch and not the insignificant human barrier will make her stop. 

It does and her head tilts up to look at me. The new perspective is shocking. Her face is hard from anger but beneath I see my own sentiment reflected there. Not the heart gripping panic, but the underlying layer of cold, repressed guilt.

I stare, in disbelief, but she is waiting for an explanation.

"Please don't leave like this." I say, sincerity lost in the rush.

"Would the window be better?" she quips dryly.

This is how we work, Max and I. Continually riding a roller coaster of emotion, flying from one end of the spectrum to the other in a matter of seconds.

"Max-" I begin, but her name turns to a groan as both heat and cold rip through the nerves in my leg.

Not now, not now, not now, not now, I pray silently but the shaking has started and the pain won't stop. My eyes catch her expression of shock before I squeeze them shut hoping to disguise the fear she knows so well. Why the hell now? Why? Was my life getting too perfect? Able to walk again, the girls of my dreams in my arms. But no fucking happiness for Logan Cale. That right was given up long ago. I collapse against her small frame as my legs give out and I can't help feeling that I'm crushing her.

Silence ensues as the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears begins to subside. I lie half on her, half on the couch, my upper body propped against her own. The silence is almost tangible, like a heavy weight covering us and suppressing the emotions that will unwillingly escape. I try to pull away but she holds me firmly.

"You could have told me, Logan," she says softly, the anger completely drained away.

"You know now." I say, and grip the hand that encircles my chest. "Now you tell me your secret."

"What?" She says, oblivious, but I am well acquainted with the sound of guilt. I hear it barely disguised in her voice.

"Where were you tonight?"


	3. rain

For anyone and everyone who is still following this story, sorry if this is really deep and over-analyzed. Considering that the last ep was so depressing, it's been hard to write fluff. You know, I would, if I was given SOMETHING TO WORK WITH!!! Okay, rant is over. Cameron and Eglee are not sadistic, just never mind.

Part 3

Things were so much easier before. Before when I didn't have to worry about anyone other than myself. Before when my actions had no unwanted consequences on anyone else. Before when it was just me against the world with none of the mess and baggage of relationships.

Before when I didn't know what I was missing.

Truth is, I don't regret it. Because even with my guilt-ridden conscience brooding silence and apprehension over our heads, lying here with Logan's scent and familiarity surrounding me, I feel, for the first time in my life, completely safe. Not physically safe; I don't pretend not to know that my life is more periled with every minute I stay with him, but just safe. As if Logan's arms are the one place no one can touch me. That the ticking time bomb over my head and my fate known only to my creators never existed. That I can just fall away from all of this and not have to hide anything or hide from anyone. Just human, just Max. Just Max.

The clarity in his eyes as he watches and waits and the butterflies go haywire in my stomach hides nothing from me. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I wonder when it was that our unspoken trust was formed. Perhaps it was never formed at all, it was just a given from the first time we met. When our innermost secret was entrusted with the other, not by choice, but by circumstance. When we fought the urge to wage war against the other with our intelligence and choose instead a different path. We hold equal burdens now, and somehow that makes them less. Somehow, that has broken the wall that is always hidden behind, that allows for mistakes. We just stand amid the rubble instead of having to reach across. He bared all to me, and the least he deserves is the truth. He has earned it.

We face each other but our hands are still linked. I lick my lips to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. His patience is terrifying.

"When I left your place tonight I was pissed. At you, at the world-"

"At Zack," he says softly, with all seriousness.

It's strange, how he reads me. I look down at my hands and take a deep, shuddering breath.

"I felt completely let down."

He nods, his jaw working.

"Like when I found out about Val."

"Yeah."

I watch the pain cross over his features and I don't think I can go through with this. I can't hurt him again. So I stand and walk to the window, my insides heaving. I look out and see the rain washing the city into a murky dark gray. It pounds on the concrete sidewalks and decaying brick buildings, but somehow, its destruction is lost in its act of cleansing. I need to tell him, even if he hates me for it. Even if I ruin everything between us. Even if he wants me to leave.

"I ran away Logan," I say, still facing the window, "I ran away and tried to find what I was missing in someone else. In anyone else." I laugh a little to myself, the words so weird as they come out of my mouth. "I don't know what I wanted. I just didn't want to feel so disgusting."

I turn and he is still watching me, not moving at all.

"But I didn't find it." I whisper. "I thought that if I tried hard enough, I would make him change something in me. But he didn't. He didn't change a fucking thing. Except maybe to lead me back here."

I find his eyes, even though a sea of darkness separates us.

"I'm sorry." I say.

I feel empty. Carved out. Like those words have taken more energy from me than anything I have ever done. Terror creeps up now, into the pit of my stomach as I wait for him to say something.

He cautiously gets up to join me at the window, our eyes never breaking contact. They are telling me something, but their meaning fails my grasp.

"Don't be sorry, Max."

"Logan," I say, terrified to let him continue.

"Max, listen to me." His voice drops to a caress. "Never be sorry. If anyone should be saying they're sorry, it's me."

I open my mouth to protest but he raises a finger to stop me.

"We both know you don't belong here. Not just because it's dangerous for you to stay, but because you're not meant to be in a cage, Max. Seattle's your cage and I don't want to be the one holding that key. I can't let you stay and put your life on hold while risking everything for me. I'm holding you back, Max."

I want to scream. I want to shake him and yell at him that it's not that way at all. That everything he has said is wrong because it's not important. I want him to show anger and jealousy and all those other things that I expected. But not this. Not this bullshit that breaks us into pieces. He's wrong. He is. I want so badly to show him how wrong he is. To say something. Anything.

But nothing comes out. Not even a breath.

"You don't belong here. And even though it's against everything I have wanted I will let you go." He strains to keep composure. "I want you to go. Go see the world and go be with other men and go be with the others, Max. I can't ever give you enough."

"You are enough," I whisper, incredulous at his words. "How can you not be enough when you are everything! Do you think I stay out of pity?!" I spit, emotion erupting abruptly.

"No, I don't doubt your sincerity. But sometimes I have to question myself, and you." His eyes look tired, as if he cannot bear this hurt any longer.

"I never had to make a choice, Logan," I say, my voice brittle as I try to reach him. "I never once considered leaving with Zack if it meant leaving you. I try to forget Manticore, Logan. I've been trying my whole life. And the only time I've ever been able to forget that I'm not a souped-up mutant warrior has been with you."

I can't stop the rush of tears and I let them streak down my face as I keep talking shakily.

"Don't make me lose that, Logan. Please don't let me lose you."

He thumb reaches up to brush away a tear and I fall into his arms. I hold onto him tightly as the tears keep coming and I'm afraid that if I let go I'll never find my way back.

The room ripples with the falling rain, with the blur of tears. His voice is hushed near my ear.

"I can't keep you to myself, Max. It's not fair to you."

I pull away and study his face, looking for signs of reluctance. I half smile when I see it, clearer than ever.

"It's not fair for me to keep you all to myself but I do. And I will."

He presses his lips to my hair and his arms encircle me tighter. His grip will not fail. We stand alone amid the rubble of a broken world and for the first time in my life, I know that everything is in its right place.


End file.
